Atlantic City
by SophieDevereauxtoo
Summary: Tara got herself into some trouble. She calls Sophie to help but Sophie can't do it on her own. This story takes place early in the first season of Leverage. Sophie doesn't trust the team with anything, even asking for help. Rated M for some shower fun at the end.


Los Angeles 2008

I woke suddenly, drenched in cold sweat, my heart racing. Tara. A black pit in the ground. Falling. Both of us falling, she's calling my name – my real name. The details start to drift away but the panic remains. I try to catch my breath. I try to clear my mind, to think. What does it mean? Just a bad dream? No. It's more than that. It's Tara. Tara is in trouble.

Slowly my senses come back to me. Tara is fine. Tara is here next to me. She is sleeping on her stomach and I can't help but to put my hand on her back to feel her breathing. I try to calm myself but I can't shake the feeling of dread. Was it just a bad dream? I hope so. I can't help feeling it was more like a premonition. That something really bad is about to happen.

I nudge at Tara. I need to know that she really is Ok. She mumbles something about coffee and morning. I lay down and try to sleep but thoughts of black pits and horrible ends swirl around in my head.

Morning comes at last and I get up and make myself a cup of tea. Tara and the team drink coffee but I just can't get used to something so bitter first thing in the morning. I should go shower and get ready to go into the office. I usually laugh when I think about us having an office, a bunch of thieves sitting around drinking coffee, making elaborate plans to get even with some corporate pirate. It seems such a ridiculous thing but I am starting to get used to it. It still seems strange to me to share with others, to depend on someone else, to trust anyone. I like it, having friends now but there are parts of me that I don't share with them, with anyone. Tara is one of those things. Maybe someday I will introduce her to the team but, for now, I keep my relationship with Tara separate from my work.

I make Tara some instant coffee and go to wake her. One more check to make sure everything is OK and then we will part, me for the office, Tara for a job somewhere else. She doesn't tell me and I don't ask. I sit next to her on the bed and run my hand down her long smooth back. She starts to stir and rolls over toward me. "Do you have coffee?" She asks as she yawns and stretches. "Of course I do Hun," I tell her, "but you're going to have to beg for it." "Really?" she asks as she casually slides her hand inside my robe and across my lap. "Mmmm" is my only answer as I open my legs for her. I wrap one over and roll so that I am on top and her hand is trapped between. She begins to wriggle, trying to free her hand but I let it slide only one direction, not giving any ground until she finds her target. When my muscles finally relax, she rolls me over. I slowly begin to check her head to toe to make sure that every part of her is indeed OK.

I finally make it to the office, several hours late, earning me a disapproving look from Nate and a raised eyebrow from Parker. I offer them no explanation. I bit of mystery is always a grifters best friend. Hardison starts his presentation on our newest mark and I try to forget about my nightmare and lose myself in the work at hand. Tara is gone when I get home.

A good grift takes 100% of my attention and I spend the next 4 days wearing someone else's skin, thinking of nothing but the job. The bad guy takes the hook, we bring him to his knees and bring our prize back to those who had been wronged. I haven't thought about Tara or my dream in days.

Just as we are all heading out of the office to go celebrate, my phone rings. I wave the gang on and answer. A low female voice is on the other end. "I need your help. I've got myself into a bit of trouble." My heart races. "It's not my fault 'So' but I'm going to need a lawyer." It's Tara. She needs help and she's going to tell me exactly what she needs. Her words are coded, someone else is listening. Calling me 'So' is the first clue. Tara always calls me Soph or Sophie. Shortening it to So tells me to watch what I say. "Who is this?" I ask. "Rebecca Roberts." Got it. "I've got a public defender here in Atlantic City but he will just want to make a deal." Another clue. She doesn't need a lawyer. "We're supposed to meet with the prosecutor tomorrow at 4:00. They tell me she's a real shark." Got it. "I'll take care of it" I tell her.

I hang up and call Hardison. "Sophie! What's up? Where are you? Nate is looking for you?" "Hardison shut up!" He continues, "we're all here. Just waiting for you. Going to sell-i-brate too-nite!" "Hardison" I try again. "SHUT UP!" A pause. His voice has lowered. "Shutting up now. Shutting up." "I need a favor Hardison. But you can't tell anyone, not Parker, especially not Nate OK?" He reluctantly agrees. I give him the details of what I need. He promises he will leave the party and get right on it. He'll call me in a couple hours. I tell him he has two.

Back at my flat I throw together what I will need for my new persona and arrange for a flight to New Jersey. I have only until 4:00 tomorrow to pull this together. Hardison comes through for me with everything I need and I catch the red eye to Newark. I'm in Atlantic City by dawn.

My plan is to get myself into the DA's office in Atlantic City. Hardison has created my new identity as a recently hired ADA and uploaded all of my credentials. He was not able to access the arrest information on Ms. Roberts so I will need to find that for myself before I go to meet with Tara and her lawyer. I have my own plan for that.

I show up early in a conservative business suit, my hair is in a neat bun, paper cup of coffee in my hand and my newly minted ID clipped to my lapel. I am ready to work. First thing, I dump my brief case and files of paper that I have been carrying and look around for a friendly looking secretary, an older woman probably, someone who knows exactly what's going on and with who. If you ever want to know what is going on in an office, never go to a boss, it's the secretaries and personal assistants who run the place. I find a likely candidate and introduce myself. I make sure to mention that today is my first official day here, I don't even have a desk yet. I was brought in on an important case, a woman who was arrested several days ago, Robinson or something like that, does she have any idea where that file might be? My new friend is very helpful. "Not Robinson, Roberts. She's part of the Molina case, you know the mobster?" My stomach clenches. She continues, "Leah Wilson has that case. She's a real go getter that one. Did you know she has a 90% conviction rate?" "Lovely" I say while I try to force a smile. "Anyway she's meeting this afternoon with one of the suspects, the girlfriend, Rebecca Roberts", my new friend continues. "They think this Roberts woman knows something. They want to try to turn her." This just getting worse and worse for Tara. What the bloody hell was she doing with a mobster? "Hun?" my new friend asks, "are you OK?" "Fine" I answer, "just a little overwhelmed, first day and all". She offers me her chair while she goes off to retrieve Tara's file and find me an empty desk.

I quickly read through the file. Molina and Tara and a handful of his buddies were swept up in a raid with a few items that had been stolen including some pieces of jewelry, one with a very large pink diamond. They were there to sell the diamond to a known drug kingpin in exchange for a large amount of heroin. Tara (or Rebecca Roberts) is Molina's girlfriend and has inside information on the inner workings of the gang. They have only the possession of stolen merchandise charge but would like to expand the indictment to include, drug trafficking and whatever else they can get. Tara is the key to it all.

I shake my head. It seems clear to me that Tara was just there for the diamond. What is unclear to me is whether Tara knew who Molina was and was taking a stupid risk or if she was caught up there for some other reason. Either way, this is a mess that will take some serious sorting out.

My original plan hasn't changed too much with the new information. I go to the police precinct posing as an ADA. I get in to talk to Tara, we cut a deal and I escort her out. I hate working on the fly like this, going into the situation practically blind, but this is the best I can do in such a short amount of time. By 4:00 the real prosecutor is going to show up and things are going to go quickly from bad to worse. Time to get busy.

I draft a plea agreement, offering a lesser charge in exchange for Tara's testimony. I also plan to move her out of the city facility and into a place where "her safety can be guaranteed." How to get them to transfer her to this new place in my custody, I haven't quite figured out yet. I will just have to see how anxious the arresting officers are about the arrangement. I find an empty office and type and print my papers.

I arrive at the police station around 1:30. That should give me plenty of time with Tara before the real ADA shows up. I still haven't worked out how to get her out the door yet but I'll think of something when the time comes. I sit with my back to the one way window and open a microphone detecting program Hardison installed on my cell phone. I have asked that our conversation not be monitored but I don't trust anyone at this point, especially the police.

When the guard brings Tara in, I have to catch my breath. She is a mess. Her hair is tangled and dirty. She's tried to pull it back into a pony tail but most if it has escaped and hangs in her face. She's wearing the requisite orange jumpsuit and flip flops. Her hands are shackled in front of her at her waist. The most disturbing thing is a large swollen bruise on the left side of her face. Her eye is starting to blacken and she has a cut on her lip. I have to hold myself in my chair not to go to her and hold her.

I motion for her to sit next to me, back to the window as well. I ask the guard to remove the handcuffs and I motion for him to leave. I take out a pad of paper and pen and slide it in front of Tara and take one for myself. If we're going to be able to talk, we're going to need to make it look good.

With our heads together and our pens poised I start the questions. I take notes as we go. I ask her if she is ok. She nods but her eyes tell a very different story. She's hurt. And she's scared. This is a worst case scenario for her and for me too if we get caught. By the time a grifter like Tara makes it to booking, there's not a whole lot to be done but lie and lie and lie some more and hope someone believes you. It's always best to get away before the police arrive. If you can't do that, fast talking and misdirection is your next best hope. Actual arrests lead to trials and, God forbid, prison. I've been close a couple of times but I've never taken it this far. I'm terrified for Tara and for myself. I notice smudges of black ink on Tara's right hand and finger tips. More bad news. I almost never wear gloves on a job and I am sure Tara doesn't either. Who knows how many crimes and identities are tied to her fingerprints. If the police run them and find out who they have, things are going to go from just bad to impossible very quickly. We need to get this done fast.

I tell her that the DA thinks she's involved with this mobster Molina and that their plan is to turn her. She nods. That's what she's heard too. "But" she says "it's worse than that. Much worse. Molina isn't mobbed up. He's just a thief with an Italian last name. Not a very good one either." She shakes her head while I write down "Molina. Not mob. Thief." She continues "he pulled a smash and grab at a casino. That pink diamond they had on display. Really stupid. Anyway, that's why I was there, I was going to help him get rid of the diamond." She smiles. She means she was going to steal it. I write "pink diamond. Stolen. Casino. Mob!" I add a couple of lines under the word 'mob'.

"What about the drugs?" I ask. "That's just it" she says. There were no drugs. Not until the police arrived anyway. They brought the drugs. They're the ones who made it look like Molina was selling the diamond back to the casino guys in exchange for the drugs. And they were there too, the casino guys. They were definitely mobbed up. They were with the police." I write "police=mob=drugs".  
Tara's voice gets even lower. "They gave me a script Soph. Things I'm supposed to say to the prosecutor. They want me to help set up Molina to cover up this drug business they've got going." "Well that's not going to happen" I tell her. "I've got my own plea agreement here." I slide the paper in front of her. "We're going to get your lawyer in here and we're all going to sign this and then we're all going to walk out of here."  
Tara shakes her head. "The police here, they're all in on it. They're not going to let me out if here, not until I tell their lies. They've made that clear". She gestures toward her face. I wince and fight the urge to touch it, to make sure nothing is broken. Instead I write on my note pad "police tell witness to lie in court. Frame Molina. Police brutality"

I tell her I'll figure out the leaving part when the time comes. Now we need to call her lawyer in. "Wait" she tells me. "What about Molina?" "What about him?" I ask. She tells me, "He's not really a bad guy. He is just young. And stupid. And he has an Italian last name. He's the perfect fall guy." I shake my head. "I can't do anything Tara." "But isn't this what you do now? You and 'that insurance'…I mean Nate and your crew. You help people right?" "Tara," I whisper, "all I can do now is get you. I can't come back here. Besides, he's a thief right? Thieves get caught. He's going to have to work this out himself. Without you they don't have anything on him anyway." She looks at the table. "You don't mean that Sophie. I know you don't mean that. He just needs a little help, someone to teach him how to stay out of trouble. I remember someone did that for me once". It's my turn to look at the table. "Ok. I'll call Nate. But first, you. OK?" She nods. She's not happy with the answer but she knows it's the best she's going to get.

Tara's Public Defender finally shows up. He is shocked to see her here alone with a DA. She assures him that she hasn't said a word without her lawyer. He sits across from me and I begin to lay out the terms of the plea agreement. He nods enthusiastically, thankful to be making a deal on such a loser case. He advises Tara to sign the paper. She does then, while I sign, she drops her hands below the table, brushing her hand against my thigh. She's telling me she trusts me, that this is going to work. I wish I had her confidence in my plan.

All that's left is to find the detective in charge, show him the plea agreement and tell him that I am taking Tara to a safe house in my custody. If this doesn't work, we both will be going to prison. Maybe we can be cellmates? Wouldn't that be a lark? Suddenly my forgotten phone buzzes, skittering across the table, making all three of us jump. I snatch at it. Not a good time to text me Nate. Not a good time. 

The text isn't from Nate though. It's from Hardison. 'Comm? Need a ride? Outside with FBI badge and car. Ready when you are'. I stare, stunned at my phone for a sec before replying with one word, 'Now'. Later we will discuss how and why Hardison is here in Atlantic City. Right now I am thankful for his help. I get up and open the door to the interrogation room to look for someone in charge when I hear a commotion coming through the front door. It's Hardison. He's wearing one of his homemade FBI jackets and cap and flashing a badge. He's on one of his rants about not respecting the black man or Jewish man or something or other. He has a talent for making people uncomfortable and getting his way. He could be a good grifter one day if I could ever pull him from his computers.

Between Hardison's rant and my yelling over him at the detective, we manage to get Tara between us and towards the door. Hardison gives me his hat and I pull it onto Tara, low to hide her face. Hardison throws his jacket over her and we push her out into the sunshine and down the steps to an official looking car that Hardison has left double parked in front of the station. He goes to the driver's seat while I push Tara into the back and follow her in. Tires squeal as we pull away from the scene of our crime. Hardison throws a paper bag into the back seat. Inside are two pairs of black sweat pants and shirts. I help Tara change, keeping the hat covering her face as much as possible then change myself. Hardison pulls in front of my hotel. I slip Tara the room key and push her out the door. Hardison and I need to talk.

Before I can say a word, Hardison starts. "I'm sorry Sophie. I know I shouldn't have come but you weren't wearing your comm and I kind of figured out what you were doing and I don't know who that was and I don't want to know but Sophie, we're a team now you don't need to do this all alone anymore I didn't tell Nate or anyone but I knew you might need some help and you should have told us cuz you know we're a team and all and…" "Hardison", I had to interrupt, no telling when he might stop for breath, "Hardison. Shut up!". "Shutting up now. I am shutting up. Again. Shutting…up…" "Hardison, "I start again, "Thank you." He smiles. "You are SO welcome Sophie." "Oh and I need one more favor." I say. I hand him the notes I took while Tara was telling me her story. "Could you drop this off with someone in the state police? Tell them there are some hinky things going on with the police here." "Anything for you Sophie. Consider it done." He smiles. I smile too and get out of the car. I watch him drive away. I feel good to know that my team will be there for me, whether I think I need them or not. I feel happy.

Tara! We're not done here yet. We still need to get out of Atlantic City. I rush up to my hotel room. Tara is already in the shower. I can't blame her. I call down for food and some respectable clothing. Tara is still in the shower. I knock on the door with no answer. I am beginning for feel concerned. I slowly open the door, letting a billow of steam escape. "Tara? Are you OK?" Still no answer but I can see her through the curtain, she is just standing under the water, hugging herself. I pull back the curtain. "Tara?" She's crying. Despite the hot water she's shaking too. I quickly pull off my sweats and step in with her. I pull her into my arms. "It's OK now Tara. It's OK." She lays her head into my shoulder and we both cry.

I don't know how long we stand there, holding each other, letting the hot water wash away our tears and all of the fear and the smell of the jailhouse. I put my hand on Tara's swollen face, she starts to pull away and then leans back into my hand. "We should put some ice on that" I whisper. "I know." She says but neither of us wants to move. Slowly Tara begins to slide herself down my body, letting her hands trail behind until she reaches her knees. Her hands hold tight to my hips. "Tara", I start "I don't think…I mean…you don't have to… I mean…it's OK Tara." "Shhh" She whispers. "I'm fine now. Because of you. I want you Sophie. I need you." She buries her face into me. I tangle my fingers into her hair, holding on tight. My head falls back as I lean into the cold tile wall. I close my eyes, letting the feelings wash over me with the water. When I can no longer hold my own weight, Tara pulls me down with her and we kiss. "Bloody Hell Tara" is all I can manage to say as all of the horror and stress of the last two days melts away and I collapse into her.

Slowly we climb out of the shower. I wrap myself in a towel and gently wipe the water off of Tara's face before wrapping her up too. We escape the steamy room to find our food has already arrived. I make Tara hold an icy towel to her face while we eat. She must be starving but she still picks at her food. "Tell me" I ask her. "I don't know," She says, "I've never been that close before. Maybe I'm slipping. Maybe it's time for me to give up the life too". This I understand. I don't need to say anything. She'll figure this out for herself. I did. It didn't exactly turn out the way I planned it but I can honestly say that I finally feel like I am where I belong. I take her ice away and take her hand. As we make our way to the couch, our towels slip to the floor. Right now this is where Tara belongs. With me. With me on the couch that is. I smile a wicked smile.


End file.
